A New Opera (in Preparation).
Librettist. Now here's a grand effect. They all say, "We swear!" Then there's a magnificent "Oath Chorus!" How do you propose to treat that?
Composer. Oath Chorus? In D Major.
A Page from an Imperial Note-Book.—So far so good. Got rid of the Grand Old Chancellor and the rest of that crew—without much of a row! Been civil to my English Uncle, the Pope and the Democrats. Can't be idle, so what shall I do next? Why not take a trip to America where I might stand for President? If I propose extending trip to Salt Lake, would have to go en garçon. Or I might see if I could not get a little further than Stanley in Africa. When I returned might write a book to be called, The Extra Deep-Edged Black Continent. Or why not turn painter? With a little practice would soon cut out all the Old Masters, native and foreign. And if I gave my mind to poetry, why Goethe and Heine would be simply nowhere! How about horse-racing? A Berlin Derby Day would make my English cousins "sit up." And sermons, there's something to be done in sermons! I believe I could compose as good a discourse as any of my Court chaplains. And then, possibly, I might be qualified to do that which would satisfy the sharpest craving of my loftiest ambition—I might write for Punch!
[So he shall. He shall "write for Punch," enclosing stamps, and the Number shall be sent to him by return.—Ed.]